


She’s So Pretty It Hurts

by gonan



Series: gallavich but make it lesbian [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Mild description of injuries, i have no medical knowledge if that wasn’t already glaringly obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonan/pseuds/gonan
Summary: Mikayla really needs a girlfriend. But more importantly, she probably needs some stitches.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: gallavich but make it lesbian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634044
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	She’s So Pretty It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentines day!! ian and mickey GALLAGHER are eating chocolate strawberries in bed as we speak
> 
> i’ve read a couple of (amazing) genderswap gallavich fics and i wanted to try my hand at one set a bit further into the future than the others i’ve seen
> 
> everyone in shamey can have a little genderswap. as a treat
> 
> so you don’t get confused:  
> Mikayla = Mickey  
> Lillian = Ian  
> Manny = Mandy  
> Sander = Sandy

Mikayla knew that she was dumb, she just hadn’t quite known the true extent of it until now. Because here she was, flat on her ass in the middle of the street, with Manny and Sander trying valiantly to hold her fucking arm together.

“Son of a motherfuckin’, cocksuckin’ little bitch,” she swore, swatting at Manny’s too-tight hold. Manny glared at her efforts and nudged her hand away with his elbow. “You’re squeezing too hard, asswipe!”

“Do you wanna bleed out? Be my fucking guest, but at least wait until the ambulance gets here,” he shot back, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with more attitude than the motion required. She scoffed, looking to Sander for backup. Her cousin had always been a bit fucking nicer to her than her brother was, but she supposed that was because he hadn’t had to live with her all these years.

“He’s right, Mick. We gotta keep pressure on it,” Sander said, and fuck him for making sense. Fuck him. Fuck both of them for that matter, but especially fuck her for deciding that it’d be a good idea to go for a joyride on Jamie’s motorcycle with her two idiot relatives also balanced on the seat. Her older sister was gonna kill her. Though, to be fair, Mikayla had sustained far more damage than the bike had.

“Speaking the fuck of,” she grit out. “When’s that shit comin’? I can feel my fuckin’ bone sticking out over here.”

“It’s not sticking out, you drama queen,” Manny said. His hands scrabbled along her forearm in their attempt to maintain a firm hold on the slippery skin. “Fuck, keep your blood pressure down or whatever. Think happy thoughts. You ever save up enough for that glock you were lookin’ at?”

“Can’t think happy thoughts around you two assholes,” Mikayla said irritably. But the thought of her new gun was distracting her a bit - until she remembered how fucking long it would take for her to be able to use it after this.

Thankfully, just as she was about to snap at Manny again for clamping down on her bloody wrist, she heard the sound of sirens approaching from a few blocks away. She tried not to hold out too much hope - this was the south side after all, it could be a police chase - but when the ambulance swung around the corner she felt herself collapse against Sander in relief.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sander struggled to lean her upright on his shoulder. “Home stretch, buddy. Don’t pass out on us now.”

“Mmm,” she said groggily.

Manny delivered a very unnecessary slap to her exposed cheek in an effort to keep her awake. “Come on dumbass, it’s almost here.”

Mikayla made a noise from deep in her throat that was as close to a growl as she could manage. “If I were to bleed out right this fucking minute, you’d have to live every second of the rest of your miserable life knowing that those were the last words you ever said to me.”

“I’d live,” he said, flashing her a cheeky grin that she hated to admit was keeping her grounded to reality. If only out of the force of her sheer hatred for it. 

The ambulance stopped a few yards away from where they were all huddled together. She watched as the white mass began blurring the more that she looked at it, red lines leaking upwards into the sky from the stripes on the side and then from the hemorrhaging of her own arm.

From the passenger side a tall, muscular woman came out and hurried towards her. If Mikayla had been slightly less delirious from the adrenaline and blood loss, she would’ve been embarrassed by the way her eyes wandered over the dips and curves of her athletic frame. But as it was, she felt on the edge of consciousness, and for all she knew this could be the angel that greeted her at the pearly gates. It seemed like the wrong direction for a Milkovich to be floating, but she wasn’t about to question it.

The woman stopped in front of them, her long red hair gathered away from her face in a high bun. Mikayla could swear she saw an aura of golden light shimmering around her body. Or maybe she was just blocking her view of the sun. Fuck. Were you supposed to be able to feel how fast the earth was spinning?

She dropped down to kneel next to the trio and took in the scene. “We need to get her up to the UChicago ER stat. I’ll dress her arm for now to staunch the blood flow.”

Mikayla was grateful that the woman didn’t beat around the bush (would she if Mikayla asked?), because she was actually starting to get worried that she’d pass out right here on the asphalt.

“Oh shit! She came prepared,” Mikayla warbled, pointing sluggishly to the bag of medical supplies she’d just noticed the woman carrying. All she got in response was a concerned furrow of two red eyebrows. The EMT retrieved a small penlight from the bag and touched Mikayla’s chin gently to encourage her to look up. When the light shone in her eyes she cowered back, but it seemed that the split second of contact had been enough for the woman to come to some sort of conclusion, because she clicked it off and stowed it away quickly as she motioned her partner over.

“She shows signs of a mild to moderate concussion. We’ll need to get that checked before she goes in for surgery,” she told the man.

“Surgery?” All three Milkoviches said in unison, varying degrees of panic present in their tones. Mikayla looked up at Manny just as his head swiveled towards hers. She shook her head as much as she could without feeling nauseous - which was not a whole fucking lot. Despite the worry in his own eyes, Manny gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead in a show of quiet reassurance. 

The EMT carefully extracted her arm from the tight hold of the two men. “It’s fractured. We may need to get it into surgery if there are fragments loose inside the arm,” she directed this up towards her partner, then spoke to her relatives. “Hold her still while I move her.”

An icy wave of fear crashed through Mikayla’s stomach as she shot forward to put a hand over the open wound. “Wait! Shit, Einstein, I’m gonna bleed out over here! I’m about a good two fucking seconds from conking out at any given moment!”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get her blood pressure down but the bitch is freakin’ out,” Manny said, but he followed the woman’s instruction and kept one hand secure on Mikayla’s shoulder to limit her mobility.

The EMT gave a long-suffering sigh and closed her eyes as if mentally preparing for a confrontation with the frantic siblings. “Your dizziness isn’t from the fracture. You have a concussion. And your blood pressure already is too low, that’s why you’re feeling lightheaded. Now come on, I’ve got to set her arm.”

“A concussion? If she passes out, won’t she become retarded or something? Or like, slip into a coma?” Sander asked. 

“We should be so lucky,” Manny said lowly, earning him a savage purple nurple from Mikayla’s free hand.

The EMT actually laughed at that. Fuck. Was Mikayla supposed to stay mad when a sound like that came out of a woman with that jawline? “She seems coherent enough to me. Nothing to worry about if she can form full sentences now, even if she does fall asleep for a couple hours. If you’re worried, just keep her talking while I get her ready to go and we’ll think about the rest later, yeah?”

“We’ll probably have a harder time shutting her up, isn’t that right, Mick?” Manny said sweetly. Her middle finger was about ready to jab itself into his eye socket - at least he’d have someone on standby to slap a patch on it. He seemed really eager to test his luck today, but thankfully for him, her EMT swooped in just in time to dissolve the impending argument with a set of clear green eyes and sparkling teeth that placated Mikayla’s raging temper almost instantly. 

“Mick, huh?” The woman smiled down at her as she placed her arm into a splint. Mikayla winced. “What’s your full name?”

“Mikayla. Mick - Mikayla Milkovich,” she said, eyes practically boggling out of her head at the gorgeous EMT. She realized belatedly that the only reason she had been asking was for her medical records, but that didn’t stop her from staring at the woman like she was drooling rainbows.

“Well, Mikayla, I’m Lillian. You can call me Ian if you’d like,” Lillian deftly finished preparing her arm for their journey to the hospital and hooked an arm around her waist, escorting her slowly to the back of the ambulance so as not to aggravate her nausea. Mikayla felt her body heat around the spaces where she felt Ian’s weight and breath against her temple. 

“Ian. You, uh,” she swallowed thickly. “You can just call me Mick too. Y’know. My asshole mom wanted a boy so she called me that until Manny was born.”

Ian’s lips pursed together into a knowing smile. “Terri?” 

Mikayla stumbled as Ian nudged her up onto the ledge of the vehicle. “You know her?”

Ian laughed, holding out both hands to steady her hips.  _ Fuck _ her for that. Mikayla was sure she was gonna pass out now. “Half the city knows Terri Milkovich, are you kidding me? I’m a Gallagher. I bet you’ve heard of my mom.”

Unfortunately, she had. Francine was always stumbling around town, only just coherent enough to ramble on about the struggles of single mothers or what-fucking-ever came to mind in that cobweb-riddled labyrinth up there. Monty wasn’t much better from what she’d heard, but no one had seen the old asshole in years.

“You both can ride in back with us if you’d like,” Ian told Manny and Sander, making sure Mikayla was comfortable before she motioned her partner back to the driver’s seat.

“Nuh-uh,” Mikayla said, uninjured arm motioning towards the barely-scathed bike set up against the sidewalk. “Somebody’s gotta take that home. Jamie’s gonna kick my ass even harder if that stupid piece of shit gets stolen.”

“I’ll go take the heat for it, Mick,” Manny said softly, going over to undo the kickstand. “It was my idea to go tri-tandem anyway.”

Mikayla didn’t say anything, but her small nod conveyed every bit of gratitude she felt. Her shitty little brother could actually be nice when he wanted to. Sometimes she forgot just how nice.

“Alright then, let’s get this shitshow on the road,” Sander said, slapping the top of the ambulance with a smirk as he climbed in. Mikayla rolled her eyes, but she tossed one last glance at Manny’s retreating form as he drove away on Jamie’s death trap and told herself he’d be okay. Jamie was a bitch, but she knew that Manny could hold his own against any one of them if it came down to it.

The splint sat heavy in her lap as Ian set it down to close the doors behind them. Mikayla raised her eyebrows approvingly at the view of her ass leaning over; when Sander caught her she directed them towards him, points sharp and challenging. He held up his hands in surrender. 

Ian returned to her side, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder to keep her steady as the engine started and her partner signalled them back onto the road. She shivered at the skin-to-skin contact. Mikayla’s jacket had been maimed in the fall and Manny had stripped it off her to get at the wound, so all that was left underneath was the stupid old Grateful Dead shirt that she’d turned into a tank top. She cursed her past self for subjecting her to the cruel torture of feeling the touch of that calloused hand against her arm.

“Are you cold?” Ian asked, misinterpreting her shiver. Mikayla jolted at how closely the words were spoken to her ear. 

“If you stopped cutting off the sleeves on every shirt you own, maybe shit like this wouldn’t happen,” Sander said. When her eyes snapped up at that he was looking around the rig with the usual bored expression he wore when nothing he found particularly interesting was happening. Fucker.

“Yeah, but then how would anyone know I was a dyke, San? Huh? Ain’t that why you wear the fuckin’ flannel all the time?” She poked him in the chest, arm flapping about at the open sides of his red and black button up. He scowled as he batted her hand away from his undershirt. “I’m not fuckin’ cold anyhow.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ian butt in, pulling over a rolling machine with a bunch of medical equipment loaded onto it.

Sander flicked the side of Mikayla’s thigh with a dirty fingernail. It was her only warning as a wicked grin preceded his question: “What, the cold thing or the dyke thing?”

Mikayla had a few fucking things to say to him for pulling that shit, but she’d much rather say them with a closed fist. She reached out weakly in retaliation, seething when she realized that all he needed to do to avoid her wrath was leap a mere foot out of the way of her one working arm. So words it was. “Fuck off, you stupid twink!”

“Both,” Ian leaned against the ledge of her machine, interrupting their burgeoning spat as she locked eyes with Mikayla. Mikayla’s mouth clamped shut immediately. A single triangular eyebrow raised on that pale forehead, amusement evident in the set of Ian’s lips. “Sit still for me, will you?”

The fucking sly ginger unspooled a long cord from the machine and set to work administering some quick tests to check her temperature and blood pressure while they sped down the side roads. Mikayla watched the care with which Ian treated every aspect of her job, and somehow that was making her even hotter for the chick. That uniform didn’t hurt one bit either. Seeing a woman with a white polo tucked into slacks was like catnip to lesbians.

“Is this your first concussion?” She asked, shining that light into Mikayla’s eyes again.

“A Milkovich getting a concussion?” Mikayla smirked. “Regular fuckin’ Tuesday.”

Ian failed miserably at suppressing her grin. “Be that as it may, it’s better to be safe than sorry. They’re still gonna have to do a CT scan on ya. You got an estimate?”

Mikayla blew air out of her mouth. “Every few years since I was ten?”

“Jesus,” Ian laughed. She gave Mikayla a look of fond disbelief as she rolled the blood pressure cuff back up. “You sound like my sister Carla.”

“That the one that bit a kid’s ear off in the third grade?” Mikayla asked. She thumbed lightly at the side of her nose, feeling vulnerable under the intense focus of Ian’s attention.

“The very same,” Ian said. She held her chin high like she was damn proud of it too. “It was just part of the lobe, though.”

Mikayla made amused eye contact with Sander at the distinction - as if that made it any less Hannibal-fucking-Lector-y. He whistled. “Shit, I think we finally found the perfect girl for you, Mick.”

It seemed he’d forgotten that she still had her feet at her disposal, but she was more than happy to remind him with a swift kick to the shin. A sharp, “Oof,” sounded from the winded dickhead as he hobbled even further out of her reach.

“Yeah, you keep walkin’, tough guy,” Mikayla said.

Before she knew it, the ambulance slowed to a stop in the emergency lane of UChicago Medicine. The endless bustling of the hospital was audible even from inside of the rig. Ian pushed open the doors to start unloading the cousins from the back of her ambulance; they were no doubt stinking up the joint with their combined aroma of cheap weed and fake leather, so the fresh air was a welcome interruption. The burst of natural light that flooded their senses was a different story. Mikayla’s queasiness returned tenfold, and it took everything in her to concentrate on what the redhead was saying as she lurched upright to disembark.

“If you think that’s bad, I guess I shouldn’t tell you that I once set somebody’s car on fire,” Ian said over her shoulder. Mikayla stumbled into her, breath stuttering as those strong arms came up to catch her. Despite the gentle assistance she had never felt more south side than she did now, getting worked up over the fact that Flat Stanley here was one conviction away from being a registered felon. “Don’t go around repeating that, yeah? I could get fired. Already was once for lying on my resume.”

Ian winked, the very tip of her tongue poking out playfully from between her teeth as she eased them both off the bed of the ambulance. Sander’s clambering steps followed closely behind, and as soon as the doors were shut behind him Ian’s partner sped off to clear the entryway. She thinks Sander might’ve said something as he jogged over to join them, but he may as well have been speaking in fucking tongues with how many fucks she cared to mind him. Right now she was entirely too preoccupied with the weight of the hand below her ribcage that was slowly guiding her through the automatic doors and into the pristine hospital lobby.

Mikayla wondered if she hadn’t been onto something with all that heaven shit from before. This was probably the closest she was gonna get anyhow.

Ian grinned down at her, that same proud look on her face. “How’s that for the perfect girl?”

Mikayla didn’t get the chance to respond, because a pair of nurses hurried up to them with a cot as soon as they set foot beyond reception. Maybe that was a good thing - she had no idea what in the fuck she’d be able to get out in answer to  _ that _ without also managing to choke on her own spit in the process.

Ian relayed a string of numbers and jargon to the nurses that were corralling her onto the cot. Mikayla watched them stick her left arm with a long needle, vaguely noticing that it was attached to an IV drip full of something that was suddenly making her very loopy. 

“Are you doing alright? What’s your pain level?” Ian asked, one hand resting on the metal rail beside her. 

“Don’t you worry about me, carrot cake. I got a high pain tolerance,” Mikayla said, the words slurring on their way out like she’d just taken a particularly hearty swig of Jack. She heard Sander’s low snort from somewhere behind her head.

“Okay, Braveheart. I believe you,” Ian said, the skin around her eyes crinkling prettily. She leaned forward with a conspiratorial hush to her voice. “Problem is, these doctors here, they’re all a bunch of rich assholes that start cryin’ over a stubbed toe. So just sit back and enjoy the free high for a while, yeah?”

The strange looks that garnered from the nurses seemed to be Ian’s cue to leave, and she gave one last pat to the side of the cot before making to head off back to her shift. 

“Wait,” Mikayla grabbed onto the redhead’s bulky jacket sleeve with an iron grip. Later she’d have the painkillers or whatever-the-fuck-drug-it-was to thank for dulling her inhibitions, but right now all she felt was the acute desperation of someone who felt their brains slowly melting out of their ears.

Lillian looked back, a soft smile on her face. “Yes?”

“If I make it,” she said dramatically, ignoring the amused huff that Ian gave at her theatrics. “If I make it,” she repeated seriously, beseeching the woman to maintain eye contact. A twinkle of mirth lined the green around her blown pupils. “Will you give me your number?”

Ian shook her head in disbelief, a short laugh spilling from those beautiful lips. She pulled free from Mikayla’s loose grip and walked backwards until her hips hit the wooden curve of the reception desk. “Well, Mick. Since I know for a fact that you  _ will _ make it, let’s just save you the trouble of having to track me down,” she said, snatching a sticky note and a pen from the desktop. She quickly scribbled something down and folded the small paper in half, handing it off to a gaping Sander. “Make sure she gets that when they’re done with ‘er, yeah?”

Sander nodded dumbly. Mikayla would almost find his expression funny if she didn’t know for a fact that she was sporting the exact same one. 

“See ya, gorgeous,” Ian waved a single unmanicured hand in parting as she sauntered back to the rig. Mikayla watched her go, following the movement of her hips in those uniform slacks like they were a beacon. 

“Shit,” Sander said, tucking the note into the back pocket of his jeans. “Y’all had better get it going then, huh?”

She wanted to convey her solemn agreement, but instead she blinked back pitifully as the meds took hold. The nurses’ quiet exchange sounded watery and distant above her. She saw Sander give a slight wave to her retreating cot as they began wheeling her away through another set of double doors and down a long hallway to the OR.

Mikayla replayed Ian’s departure in her mind on loop for as long as she could maintain a coherent stream of consciousness as if she was still trying to convince herself that it really happened.

_  
Let’s save you the trouble.  
  
Make sure she gets that.  
_  
The edge of a curlicued 708 was just visible before she folded it over. Mikayla’s sure it was.  
_  
See ya, gorgeous.  
_  
And yes, she said gorgeous. Like Mikayla was a fuckin’ pagaent queen or something.  


Soon all she could cling to was the tendril of smugness that slipped through at the memory of how short the ginger kept her nails trimmed, knowing it had nothing to do with occupational precaution. Fuck. If she really did die in surgery, that was the exact sort of mortifying last thought that she would’ve expected from herself.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m minutes away from entering a showing of the sonic movie, see you on the other side
> 
> part two in ze works :)


End file.
